


april is the cruellest month

by kindaopps



Series: to be at the beginning again [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 09:10:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13361346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindaopps/pseuds/kindaopps
Summary: Sometimes Yuuri gets sad. But things get better.





	april is the cruellest month

**Author's Note:**

> a sequel to a cup will come together, just a errant, tiny, still unedited extra

"april is the cruellest month, breeding

lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

memory and desire, stirring

dull roots with spring rain." - t. s. eliot

\-------

Yuuri putters around the house with bare feet, yawning widely as he makes tea. Their apartment is slightly chilly, the sun weakly streaming into the house. The fragrance of the tea slowly drifts through the air. Viktor is watching him, resting his arms at the back of the sofa, Makkachin resting under the table. Yuuri pads back to him, passing him a cup with tea sweetened the way he likes, then settles beside him.

"That's not your cup," Viktor says, watching where Yuuri's pianist fingers are curled around the plain blue ceramic. Something tugs at his mind, a little pinprick of memory that is vague and nostalgic. Yuuri blinks in surprise, his eyes dropping down to his cup.

"It is," he replies, his voice still hoarse with sleep, confused.

Viktor shakes his head. "Your cup isn't... like that." He frowns, trying to grasp the thought before it fades. "It is also blue, but not that colour blue. With stripes." 

Viktor waits, as Yuuri blinks awake, his eyes widening in delayed surprise. He inhales a careful breath. "Oh...I broke that one."  

Viktor glances up and looks at Yuuri's face. Then he puts his cup down, raising a warmed hand to press it against Yuuri's cheek.

"I've made you upset," he asserts, and Yuuri shakes his head.

"It's nothing." At Viktor's patient stare, he finally murmurs, "I used that one when we were together before."

"I see," Viktor says, then he tilts sideways and flomps onto Yuuri's lap. "You can't keep these things from me," he muffles the words into his hands then turns up to look at Yuuri's face. "I bought you that cup?" 

Yuuri swallows hard and looks away, cradling the cup close to his chest. "Yes," he sighs, and smiles at Viktor resignedly. "When we moved in together." 

Viktor sits upright and plucks the cup from Yuuri's hands. He clambered onto his lap forcefully, pressing his face between his palms.

"I am here now," he says, insists, holding Yuuri's gaze firmly. Yuuri exhales a long, stuttered breath. Finally, finally, his lips quirk into a proper smile that reaches his eyes.

"Yes," he whispers back, holding Viktor's eyes, head tilted up. His eyes flutter shut, and his lips is curled in that contented smile, like a sunflower turning towards the sun. Viktor presses a kiss onto his forehead, then tucks his face against Yuuri's neck. Yuuri's hands slide up to wrap around his shoulders and back. After a moment longer, Viktor presses another kiss on Yuuri's cheek and pulls away, picking up both their cups and passing one back to Yuuri.

"Let's play, later," Viktor hums happily, as he brings his cup to his mouth.

"Let's," Yuuri agrees. They smile at each other. The sky brightens.

-

That night, Yuuri wakes up. His eyes are dripping tears down into his ears, cold and uncomfortable. He blinks away the tears up into his dark ceiling, and presses his hands into his eyes. He turns, catching the curve of Viktor's shoulder beside him. He shuffles closer and press his face against Viktor's back: solid, stable, right beside him _._ He stays there, pulling the threads around his cracks close, Viktor's warmth reassuring, chasing the coldness and the darkness away. He rolls away after a moment, padding softly into the en-suite. Turning on the light, he ducks his head before he could see his reflection, and splashes cold water onto his face. 

"Yuuri?" Viktor steps into the bathroom, wincing at the bright light, his voice low and sleep-heavy. Yuuri looks up from where he is bent over the sink, his face dripping wet. Viktor slides up behind him, winds his arms around his waist.

"Cold," he grumbles, and Yuuri laughs a little under his breath as he straightens. Viktor peers over his shoulder to catch his eyes in the mirror, his own blue eyes half-lidded. "Come back to bed," he whispers, kissing Yuuri's cheek in a soft caress. Yuuri turns his head and kisses him once, twice. He sighs again Viktor's mouth in a third kiss, as if letting go of a burden. Winding a hand around Viktor's hand and pulling him out to their bed, Yuuri lets Viktor curl around him, head pressed against Yuuri's chest.

"Did you have a bad dream?" Viktor whispers drowsily. Yuuri cups the back of his head and hums.

"Just a bit," he murmurs back, "go back to sleep." 

"Hmm," Viktor mumbles, then doesn't reply, his breaths slow and even against Yuuri's skin. Yuuri looks down, at the sliver hair, a little blue in the dark, and smiles a little.

"You're here," he murmurs softly to himself. After a moment, he fell asleep, tightly holding the man in his arms.

\-------

"What are you playing today?" Viktor asks as he perched beside Yuuri, swinging his feet. Yuuri flips through his score, humming a little. 

"Maybe Mozart. Twelve Variations."

"Or Elgar," Viktor chimes in, "Violin Sonata in E Minor."

"You just want to play that," Yuuri laughs, and Viktor pouts at him.

"I could play Twelve Variations with you, but Elgar first. Today feels like Elgar."

"Fine, fine," Yuuri sighs fondly, then he grabs the score and places it in front of him. Viktor prances around, tuning his violin. When he is done, he stands beside Yuuri. He smiles, taking a deliberate breath, keeping his eyes on Yuuri's. The first notes ring. 

Lost in the music, they didn't realise Yuri is there, standing at the threshold of their apartment, arms crossed as he listened. "You two sound like you're fighting," he offers, and Viktor chortles.

"Yuuri doesn't like it when I steal his thunder."

"I'm just keeping you from going overboard."

"Overboard?" Viktor pouts, and he throws his arms around Yuuri, hanging around his neck. "You think I am too much?"

"You are too much," Yuuri laughs, turning his head, and dropping a kiss onto Viktor's head. "Stop strangling me." 

"You both are too much," Yuri says dryly, rolling his eyes. "I want food." 

"You came here just for food?" Viktor huffs, straightening.

"Katsudon said he's cooking."

"I am," Yuuri says, standing up from his piano chair and stepping towards the kitchen. "How does stir-fry sound today?" 

"Yuuri's food!" Viktor beams. "I'll help!"

"You stay out of the kitchen, Viktor," Yuuri laughs, "I don't want to find-"

"Egg shells in your rice?" Viktor finishes, and Yuuri looks at him in surprise. Viktor blinks in shock as well, pressing his hand to his mouth. "Egg shells in rice?" He murmurs, a little pensively, then turns to Yuuri. It was not something he remembered, but it felt right to say. A fragment of memory tugs at his chest, a little achy, like a muscle he had forgotten to exercise for too long. "I..."

Yuuri steps forward and kisses him impulsively. Then he draws back, a little pink. "I used to say that," he tells Viktor softly, "I'm going to make dinner now." He turns away, but Viktor grabs his hand before he could be out of grasp.

"You have to tell me what happened," Viktor tells him, "I want to know."

Yuuri gives him a half-smile, a little secretive, a little pleased, a little nostalgic, but mostly happy. "I'll tell you later," he promises, but he leans in to kiss Viktor's cheek again.

"Oi," Yuri calls from the kitchen, "hurry up, I'm hungry!"

Viktor tugs Yuuri towards the kitchen. "He's whining, he's whining."

"Who's whining?" Yuri yells at him, from at kitchen.

Yuuri chuckles, then pushes Viktor towards the sofa. "Sit and wait."

Viktor nods in reply, making space on his lap for Makkachin to jump on as Yuuri moves into the kitchen.

-

When Yuri was out like a light in their spare room, Yuuri slides into bed, rolling over so he was tucked against Viktor's side. He pillows his head on his shoulder, and Viktor slides one absent hand into Yuuri's hair. 

"Yuuri?"

"Hmm?" Yuuri hums, pressing a row of kisses onto the side of Viktor's neck.

"Do you ever miss me?" 

"Miss you?" Yuuri echoes, confused, raising himself up with an arm. His hair slants into his eyes. "You're right here."

"I mean... the me before, before I forgot."

Yuuri flops down beside Viktor, then pushes himself up again to stare down at Viktor's face. Moonlight snakes gently into the room, and Viktor's eyes are clear, unafraid. "What is this about?" Yuuri asks softly.

"I just wondered," Viktor replies, "sometimes...you have this look on your face, when we talk about something in the past."

Yuuri looks for a moment longer, searching Viktor's eyes. Then he curls against Viktor's chest, hand pressed into a fist against Viktor's thudding heart. "I do miss some of that," he murmurs. "Mostly when I remember something precious...but you haven't even experienced that."

Viktor is silent, staring up at the ceiling. He doesn't know what it makes him feel, only that there is a dark, creeping, uncomfortable feeling starting at the center of his chest. 

"But," Yuuri continues, and he reaches down to take Viktor's hand to kiss. "You're with me now," he murmurs against Viktor's skin, locking eyes with him. "And we can make more precious memories together, right?"

Viktor moves his hand so he is holding onto Yuuri's hand, then he curls his index finger over Yuuri's fourth finger. He meets Yuuri's eyes again, as they follow his actions. "Yes," Viktor agrees, his mouth curled into a contented smile, and leans their foreheads together. "Let's make lots."

\-------

One day, a year from now, when spring knocks at their door and cloths the earth in vibrant colours and fragrances, Viktor presents Yuuri with new cups. They are obnoxious ones, those personalised mugs, one with their faces - a selfie Viktor snuck when they were eating - badly printed on the front of the cup, one with Makkachin's face on it, and the third one with Yuuri, Viktor and Makkachin curled on the couch together. He insists that they use them immediately, shooing Yuuri to the couch as he makes them two cups of tea. He hands Yuuri's his, shifting impatiently as Yuuri drinks, utterly confused but indulgent.

Yuuri nearly chokes on the ring he finds at the bottom. He spits it out, then stares at it sitting innocuously in his palm. It glints in the afternoon sun.

"Were you try to kill me?" He asks, his voice only a little shaky, as he turns his head to look at Viktor.

"Yuuri," Viktor says slowly, solemnly, then takes the gold ring from his hand. He takes Yuuri's slack hand and slides it onto his fourth finger, lifting his head and beaming at Yuuri. "Let's be married."

Yuuri says yes.

**Author's Note:**

> t. s. eliot's the waste land is gorgeous; i thought the first few lines on rebirth/ renewal from the dead/ old are quite apt 
> 
> viktor is so uninventive when it comes to proposals, smh 
> 
> i appreciate kudos and comments! :)


End file.
